


Distance...

by RaymondHope



Series: By my side [2]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Idiots in Love, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:27:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27281185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaymondHope/pseuds/RaymondHope
Summary: Distance makes the heart grow fonder...
Relationships: Jorah Mormont/Daenerys Targaryen
Series: By my side [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1991902
Comments: 36
Kudos: 70





	1. Your Request is Granted

**Author's Note:**

> Some missing scenes from 'By my Side'.

Daenerys had assured Missandei that she was free to leave whenever she wished to return to Naath and that she would be provided with ship and supplies. The same was said to all those who had followed her here from Essos. Several Dothraki had even returned to the Great Grass Sea. So why then, was he denied permission to go for a visit? Why the bloody hell did he even need permission when no one else had? There were no pressing concerns, all he did every day was stand two steps behind Daenerys while she refused to look at him yet insisted that he be her primary guard. 

He stood up, bowed low without a word and let his Queen walk away wondering how they had come to this point. The more he thought about it, the more he became convinced that he had not done anything to cause this mess. If no one else, Grey Worm, who hovered by the window, muttering something about shift changes, would have told him.

“Go on Torgo Nudho. I will give you instructions later in the evening, right now I need to pack my clothes.”

“As you wish Jorah the Andal.” He moved to leave, but turned around at the door.

“You will write?”

Jorah nodded. “Aye. To you I will.”

He went about his packing, not that he owned much, and decided that he would not be taking his golden armor with him. it wasn't suited to the cold anyway. As he packed, making sure to brush out the sole fur cloak he owned, he felt his anger fade and be replaced by a heaviness of heart.

Somehow the trip felt both like a betrayal and a much-needed reprieve. He now lived in the White Tower of the Queensguard but it felt worse than the black cells underneath the Red Keep.

He wasn’t breaking his vows was he? It was just a short trip; he would be back soon enough. And Grey Worm would serve well as a guard until then.

Though, Daenerys might not agree if her vehement refusal (that made very little sense if you asked him), was anything to go by. Perhaps she might decide that she no longer wanted him to serve her while he was away, especially after his little display that morning. It would be better if he were already on the far side of the realm when that happened. It would save him the pain and humiliation of being banished again.

And staying here, he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t take one step without second guessing himself. It was exhausting. He hadn’t exaggerated when he’d shouted at her, he _was_ bloody tired. Not just of tip-toeing around her, wondering which line he had crossed this time, but of everything.

It had been so long since he’d felt at peace. Truly relaxed instead of planning his next move. The past decade, ever since his exile had been one war after another. Now that the Seven Kingdoms were at peace, and spring had taken root, didn’t he deserve a break?

If no one else, at least Lyanna thought so.

_The wars have ended and spring has come at last. It is times like these when visits to one’s family are in order. I trust cousin, that you remember the way to our Island._

Her letter was short and to the point like her, but it conveyed the sentiment well enough. _Our island_. Even after everything, he would be welcomed back should he chose to go. She had said as much the last time they had spoken face to face when parting at the gates of Winterfell, her with two men to return to Mormont Keep to recover, him for one final battle along with the Bear Islanders she entrusted to his command.

_“Stand strong cousin. We will meet again, assuming of course, you remember the way back home.”_

He closed and secured his bags, dropping them at the foot of his bed. He toed off his boots and lay down on the bed with an arm thrown over his eyes, and tried to picture in his mind the path that went from the island’s natural harbor to along the twin waterfalls finally ending at the hillside where Mormont Keep stood.

He couldn’t.

It had been so long, the memories he treasured were all blurred. He rolled onto his side.

_How could I have forgotten?_

He breathed deeply, hoping to dislodge whatever had been stuck in his throat, He needed to go back there, to his roots, at least for some time. He needed to go home.

But for now, he had work to do. He got out of bed and washed his face before taking his sword and going to the training yard to leave instructions for his absence.

* * *

Tyrion made his way downstairs, wanting to have a word with Mormont before he left. He had already exchanged plenty of harsh words with their Queen. It would be best if he avoided her for some time.

“You are being unreasonable!”

“Well according to you Tyrion, I am always unreasonable!”

Tyrion fumed, as did Daenerys, so far Tyrion had refused to get in the middle of the bear and his maiden fair, but now the peace of the Small Council depended on it.

“Not always. But often, especially when things do not go your way.”

“How dare you!”

“How dare I? How dare _you_ treat your most loyal advisor like that?”

At his words she glared then turned her back to him, but he continued, not noticing that Missandei had slipped into the room.

“I told you, that he is devoted to you. He has proven it time and again, that is not something anyone can deny. When the battle was over, and some soldiers said that they had seen you fall off your dragon everyone assumed that you had been killed. But instead we found you without a cut on you all because of Jorah Mormont. He deserves your respect for that, and he was not wrong to demand dignity from you. Like everyone else, he wants a break. Don’t you see he’s tired from all the fighting? He’s not asking to be released from his vows, nor does he say that he will reclaim his Lordship even though they asked him to.”

That got her attention, “Who asked him for what?”

Tyrion was surprised that she didn’t know. “The Bear Islanders that marched with the Northern Army. They wanted him to return with them. He’s once more a hero in the Northerner’s eyes. The fact that he’s on your council is why Lady Sansa did not insist on a Northern representative in court. You might know him only from Essos, but he has lived an entire life here.”

Her anger had faded, replaced by a thoughtfulness. Tyrion took advantage of that.

“Lyanna Mormont was the first to give support to Jon Snow, she declared him King and everyone else fell in line. They are a small house, but a proud one, and command plenty of respect despite not having their seat on the mainland. That little girl, is also the one Sansa trusts the most outside her siblings. Politically speaking, keeping her happy will keep Lady Sansa and by consequence the rest of the North happy. If Lady Mormont wants her cousin to come for a visit, then you should encourage said cousin to grant her wish instead of being stubborn.”

Missandei finally stepped forward and entered the conversation.

She took Daenerys’s hand and squeezed gently, “It is a small request made by a thirteen-year-old child. What harm will come if Ser Jorah should acquiesce? The sky will not fall if he goes away for a month or so. He showed me the raven scroll, it just says that now that spring is here, the time is ideal to visit family. There are no demands attached, no secret schemes, so what is the reason for being so stubborn?”

“He wants to leave.” She mumbled quietly.

“If anything, it will be beneficial for all. He’s been too tightly strung these days, were he another man I might have dragged him to a brothel to relax.”

Daenerys shot him a dark look, “What have I said about those places?”

“A man has needs.”

“Then a man should find himself a wife.”

“An excellent idea. I’m sure there are plenty women who would want to marry your Lord Commander, dour as he is. It might even brighten his mood.”

That was arguably the most brazen thing Tyrion had ever done in his lifetime. For a moment, he thought that Daenerys would turn into Drogon and burn him to crisp right then and there.

He was saved by Missandei.

“That is not for either of you two to decide, nor is it the matter at hand.” She gave them both an unamused look. 

Tyrion nodded, “Right. Now for the sake of political stability, as a gesture of goodwill, allow Ser Jorah to visit Lady Mormont.”

Daenerys did give Mormont permission to leave when he wished that very hour, but the mere fact that what was in essence a small personal request had required such great debate and persuasion did not sit well with Tyrion. Mostly because he knew if it had been anyone else, say himself who had requested to go to Casterly Rock for some time, their Queen would not have even blinked before agreeing.

He found the subject of his thoughts in the training yard sitting with Grey Worm, deep in conversation about which guards were best suited to protect the Queen.

“Mormont, Grey Worm.” He greeted them both, they silently nodded back to him. “I was hoping to have a word alone with you before you left.”

Mormont nodded, looking very tired, and said to Grey Worm, “Let me know in the morning if there are any problems.”

“As you command.” With that, Grey Worm took his leave.

Tyrion led Mormont to an empty chamber near the garden. He closed the door after him and gestured for the man to sit. He sank down into the chair without so much as a glower. This would certainly make my task easier, thought Tyrion, tired men were far more willing to agree just for the sake of ending the conversation.

“I will not waste any time and get straight to the point. The path you take, I want you to sail to White Harbor and from there ride on the Kingsroad to Winterfell where you will stay for at least one night.”

Mormont frowned, “Any particular reason? This isn’t some official visit.” He paused, “You aren’t turning this into an official visit are you?”

“No, nothing like that. I just want you to stop by and give Lady Sansa her Grace’s regards. And mine. Consider it more of a friendly visit, something to let her know we see her as allies. Although do send a raven if there is anything that might concern us.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it. Give your dear cousin my best wishes, and feel free to order some fruits or the like as gifts for her. I will personally have them delivered to Bear Island. Oh, and be sure to enjoy your vacation. I wouldn’t mind seeing you smile once in a while.”

With that, Tyrion swaggered out of the room, leaving behind one very confused Knight.


	2. Stop by on your way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jorah arrives in Winterfell, and finds himself once more defending his Queen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, Jorah and Sansa having a dinner date! What could go wrong!?!

Jorah arrived at Winterfell shortly after sundown, and intended to leave early at daybreak. But before that, he would have to endure a meal with the Lady of Winterfell. The North had lost far too much to be able to sustain itself, perhaps they would demand independence in a decade or so, but for now, the Starks had bent the knee.

After washing up he made his way to the dining hall, only to discover that tonight’s meal was in a smaller, more private chamber.

He had attended plenty of feasts in these halls, first as the heir to Bear Island, later as it's Lord. One had even celebrated him and some other distinguished fighters after the Greyjoy Rebellion. But never had he even at the height of his youthful glory ever been invited for a private meal by the ruling Stark. Yet now, as a glorified bodyguard to a ruler the North barely tolerated out of necessity, he was being asked to dine alone with the Lady of House Stark? 

He felt a chill on the back of his neck, one that had nothing to do with the weather.

Lady Sansa was alone, reading a few missives when he entered.

“Pardon my Lady.”

She looked up and smiled slightly, “Come Ser. I hope you will indulge me tonight. There is hardly anyone to talk to these days in Winterfell.”

“Of course.” He took the seat opposite to her, and asked about her siblings.

“Well, Jon has gone beyond the Wall with the wildlings, he seems to like that side more, Arya is visiting Lord Baratheon in Storm’s End, I think, I’m not sure about her, and Bran has gone to Greywater Watch. He said something about owing someone an apology. I realize I’m being very vague, these days I don’t really understand my siblings, but as long as they are safe and happy…” She trailed off.

Jorah nodded his thanks to the maid serving them, “One needn’t understand someone to love them.”

“I’ll drink to that.” They raised their hands in toast.

Jorah took a deep gulp and swallowed slowly, relishing the taste of proper Northern ale, letting out an appreciating sigh, as he set down the horn.

Lady Sansa seemed quite amused, “I thought you might prefer the bitter ale to sweet wine.”

He returned her smile, pleased by her unexpected thoughtfulness. “You thought correct.” Perhaps this dinner would not be so bad after all.

“So, how are things in King’s Landing? Anything I should be concerned about?”

Jorah shifted, “Not that I can think of, no. Flea Bottom is being renovated into more suitable housing, the smell is abating and people have work to do so they seem happy. As for the court itself, rather mundane. The plans to clean up the past twenty years mess have been set in motion and things are going smoothly. I suppose spring has put hope and happiness in everyone’s hearts.”

“That is good to know.” They ate for some time in silence before he spoke, keeping in mind the request Tyrion had made just before sending him off.

“Lady Sansa, as you know, I have not been connected to the ongoings in the North for many years. If I may return your earlier question, how are things here?”

Lady Sansa looked straight into his eyes, “Since when does a Queensguard concern himself with matters of the kingdoms?”

Jorah did his best to hold her gaze, “Whatever post I occupy, I have always been a Northerner.”

She nodded satisfied. “Things have been fine for the most part, the shortage of working men has created certain problems but that is to be expected after several years of bloodshed.”

Jorah got back to eating, “I’m glad that peace has come at last.”

Lady Sansa hesitated, “Ser Jorah, how do you plan on making your way to Bear Island tomorrow?”

“Um… like everyone does, I suppose. I’ll ride for Deepwood at sunrise, most likely get there by the afternoon. From there, a ship.”

“I thought so.” She paused to take a sip of ale. “Ser Jorah, there is something you ought to know. Lord Glover had broken faith and remained in Deepwood Motte for the Long Night. He is… how do I say this… _unhappy_ with the present state of affairs.”

Jorah drank some ale. “Some opposition was to be expected.”

“Yes, it was. However, this is different. He is not very inclined to listen to myself or Jon. He believes the Starks have betrayed the North by remaining part of the Seven Kingdoms.” She set down her fork and handed him a raven’s scroll. “He has refused to come to Winterfell for discussion.”

Jorah read the scroll, set it aside, and resumed eating, “One Lord is unhappy with your decision and is refusing to budge on his stance. Forgive me for being so blunt, but this is nothing out of the ordinary my Lady. Unless of course, you have news that he is planning a rebellion. In that case you are duty bound to inform her Grace.”

She picked up her fork and idly twirled it, “I have given the matter much thought, even discussed it with Tyrion. We have come to the conclusion that it would be better to attempt to solve the matter ourselves if possible than bother her Grace right away.”

Jorah chuckled, “Is that why Tyrion insisted I spend the night at Winterfell?”

Sansa raised an eyebrow at him, “Where else would you have spent the night? The Wintertown brothel?”

He bowed his head slightly, “Thank you for your hospitality, Lady Stark. You were saying about Lord Glover?”

“My personal preference is to simply ignore the petty protests, especially since so far no other lord has expressed the same sentiments. But he has shirked his duties. As you must be aware, for centuries the timber and fish from Bear Island enters the mainland through Deepwood Motte and is transported through the Wolfswood to Winterfell for distribution by Lord Glover’s men, but last month Lady Mormont was forced to divert her ships further up the shore to the edge of the forest for House Wull to transport, since she does not have the men, or the horses and wagons to do it herself. House Wull, though cooperative so far, cannot spare enough of their hunters and farmers to take over the Glover’s duty and bring the goods to Winterfell for distribution. Like the rest of the north, they’ve lost too many.”

Jorah set down his cutlery, having done with his meal, and leaned back in his chair, “He’s expressing his unhappiness by causing trouble for a thirteen-year-old?”

Sansa pushed away her plate as well, “He’s causing half the Western shore and me trouble Ser Jorah, I had to ask Lord Cerwyn to send fifty men and sent fifty of my own house guard to fetch the timber and salted fish. I cannot let this continue. Lady Mormont is insistent that her men will be able to cover the deficit, but you and I both know that she does not have enough to spare either.”

Jorah could feel his temper rising. Lyanna hadn’t mentioned any of this to him, whether because of her pride or because she felt shame was anyone’s guess. Tyrion, apparently knew about it anyway. No wonder he was eager to send him off. The Warden of the North and the Hand of the Queen were keeping Daenerys in the dark about a possible rebellion. He had to nip this in the bud now while he had the chance.

“I assume you have a plan to deal with him?”

Lady Sansa nodded, “Indeed. I would like you to have a few words with him.”

Jorah’s hand instinctively went for his sword, before he realized that he had left _Heartsbane_ , or as he had renamed it, _Braveheart_ , in his room. “Are those words to be given by you?”

She tsked at him, “Come now, I can only assume you are experienced enough to know how to get him to back down. You are a well experienced war General, and an anointed Knight.”

She gave him her suggestions anyway, and he gave his own insight, there was a time he and Lord Glover had been young and in training as the heirs of their ancestral seats, he had known that man once, and Glover was as fickle as he was unpolitical. Good in battle, but naught else. Should their plan work, Jorah would be able get him to toe the line without any trouble.

Somewhere between their discussion he found himself bantering with her, even sharing a few jokes that would make little sense to anyone who had not grown up in the North. 

The ale had loosened his tongue, “Forgive me for saying this Lady Sansa, but I did not know that you could be such pleasant company.”

She laughed lightly, “No, don’t apologize. I wasn’t the most welcoming when we first met, I didn’t think any of you had any humanity.”

He froze, she didn’t notice, clearly having had enough wine herself to be freer in her choice of words.

She continued, “I will not lie, I thought her Grace, the Mother of Dragons was no different than her beasts. But as it turns out, I was wrong about her. In fact, now that I think about it, it’s possible that Lord Glover chose to target House Mormont because of you.”

Jorah coughed on his ale, while she carried on, lost in her thoughts, “Yes, that does make sense. What better way to hurt the Targaryen Queen than to cause difficulty to the kin of the man she loves?”

This time Jorah dropped his glass. He hastily got up as a servant came to wipe away the spilt ale, Lady Sansa remained unperturbed. She waved away whatever apologies he was mumbling.

“It is no matter. The hour is late, let us retire. I shall see you in the morning.”

* * *

Sansa stood at the gates, ready to bid farewell to Ser Jorah. After that, she would go lie down for a while. She had drunk too much wine the previous night but could not bring herself to regret it. The night had been enjoyable. Ser Jorah was pleasant company, though he spoke little, what he did say had immense value.

She had heard a lot about him, some good, some ill, but what she had seen was only ever noble. He was a true Knight, and she could see why Daenerys, cold as she was, had fallen for him. She was fortunate to have a romance that came straight out of the songs and stories she read as child. 

Sansa might have envied her that, but those thoughts led her to the image of another. One who not Knighted but was one in her heart anyway. Perhaps, it was time to ask him to come to Winterfell. 

Ser Jorah came out, and greeted her. He looked even more tired than yesterday. She had chalked it up to his long ride, but now that she truly looked at him, in the soft morning light from the sunrise, she saw it was deeper. The weathered lines and faded scars, with dark shadows under his eyes and his beard specked with grey, they all spoke of hardships and wounds that went so deep that even the surface could show them. HE was tired not just body, but in spirit as well. 

She asked him, bidding him to answer truthfully, "Ser Jorah, why are you going to Bear Island?"

His brow furrowed deeply, but his eyes held no anger, only a bit of confusion. Without hesitation he asked, "Where else would I go?"

Where else indeed? She wondered what had happened to him in King's Landing, and felt a pang at knowing that another Northerner had suffered down south. When she spoke, it was from her heart, and hoped it might reach whatever was left of his. 

"Thank you for stopping by, here and at Deepwood Motte. I appreciate your efforts Ser. I hope you that once you reach Bear Island, you are able to rest."

He bowed to her one last time before taking his horse and riding off to fulfill another task for his Queen. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Jorah. The dude just can't catch a break!
> 
> Congratulation to forthebear for guessing that Tyrion might have a hidden agenda in asking Jorah to stop by at Winterfell.


	3. One last task

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daenerys might not know what is happening in remote corners of the Realm, but when has that ever stopped Jorah from protecting her?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little detour before Jorah arrives at Bear Island.

By the time Jorah came within sight of Deepwood Motte, it was just past high noon. The sun did not help his pounding headache, and despite the task that awaited him he felt relieved. He had had too much to drink and on top of that, hadn’t slept at all. Riding a horse for six hours without a break certainly didn’t help his sorry state. The entire night he had just tossed and turned unable to get Lady Sansa’s words out of his head.

_The man she loves…_

Bullshit. Daenerys didn’t love him. If she did, she wouldn’t have… done whatever the hell it was she thought she was doing. He couldn’t even call it maintaining distance for propriety’s sake. He still loved her though, that’s why he was here, rooting out her problems before they could touch her.

Before leaving for the Night’s Watch, his father had said to him, “The things we love always destroy us. Remember that Jorah.”

He remembered. He wished he didn’t. His father was proving to be right once again. He wished he wasn’t. 

At this point he couldn’t even hope that his stubbornness would kill him. Perhaps Lord Glover would do it for him.

He called out to the guard standing outside.

“Go inside, and tell your Lord, I am here.”

The two guards gave him a haughty look. “And just who are you?”

“The Dragon’s first sword.”

* * *

She had told her husband what he was doing was foolish and cowardly, but he would not listen. He refused the call when the Stark bastard had come, then again after he had been kindly forgiven by the same bastard he had declared King. Now he was going back on other oaths, making an enemy of the House that his only sister, short-lived that she was, had married into. A House ruled by a girl as young as their granddaughter.

But once their son had died along with Robb Stark, reason had left her husband and only anger remained. 

And now, as Sybelle Glover, hurried behind calling his name, she feared that if he did not stop right now, he would never walk again.

“Lower your sword Robett. I am here to prevent a fight, not start one.”

She knew that voice. She hadn’t heard it in nearly ten years, but she recognized it. She sidestepped the guards to see his face.

_The dragon’s first sword…_

It was him. The man they had once called brother. The man who brought glory to their side of the land. The man who betrayed his family and fled justice. The man who had now returned and stood against them.

“Jorah!”

He turned to her, ignoring the guards, brushing past her furious husband, and bowed low.

“My Lady.”

She returned the courtesy. “My Lord.”

Robett yelled out, “He is no Lord. He is a traitor who licks the boots of that Targaryen whore!”

“Mind your words Oathbreaker.” Jorah’s slowly drew out his sword, but kept it pointed at the ground. Sybelle felt fear run through her when she saw it was a greatsword made of Valyrian Steel. They had heard tales of what had transpired in what they called the Long Night, stories they knew to be true because their own walls had frozen in a matter of minutes, firewood for months had been burnt in that single night, only for all the cold and snow to melt away in the next few months as Spring came upon them. And even before that she had seen Jorah in action, a boy barely grown compared to her husband, he still won every time. She knew without a doubt that given the chance Jorah could easily cut down her husband.

She did what any good wife would do to such a man.

“Ser Jorah, we are honored to have you here at Deepwood Motte. As Lady of House Glover, I offer you our hospitality and invite you inside to share a meal with us.”

Without hesitation, Jorah returned his sword to its scabbard and offered her his arm while saying to the guards, “I intend to return to Bear Island before the end of the day, so leave my bags where they are but give the horse some water and hay.”

She ignored her husband’s furious look, while taking Jorah’s arm and led him inside.

* * *

Jorah, despite being raised in a manner that was more savage than sophisticated, what with being encouraged to go exploring the forest on his own, liked to remember what manners he had. But here politeness would get him nowhere. Here it was bluster and open threats. In return he received insults from Glover and pleading looks from his Lady.

“Tell me Lord Glover, did you truly think the Starks’ mercy is endless?”

Glover flushed red, while his wife beseeched him to be kinder. He would be kind, but not yet.

“First you refuse the call, and when Jon Snow and Sansa Stark are kind enough to let you retain your lands and your head, you swear them your loyalty only to go back on that promise when they bring an ally to save the North. When the Long Night ends, you once again refuse to come south and dispose of Cersei Lannister. You are once again forgiven but then, when at long last peace comes to not just the North but all of Westeros, you decide to engage in a petty rebellion. Gone daft have you?”

“Jon Snow gave up the crown we gave him!”

“A crown he could never have kept. Because without her Grace, Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, there would have been no North left to rule.”

Robett leaned forward in his chair, “You’ve been gone so long, you’ve forgotten who we are. We could have won any battle.”

“With what men? Fifteen thousand from the North, at least five of them barely grown children, fifty thousand from the Vale, thirty of them mounted, hundred thousand of the Dothraki riders, and nearly ten thousand Unsullied and a thousand Wildlings, and we were still outnumbered a hundred to one. On top of it, the dead are very hard to kill again and every one we lost they gained.”

Imagining the odds, some of the man’s confidence faltered, Jorah took the chance and continued.

“We lost over half of all the fighters. That girl you’re causing trouble for took down a giant. That Lady you won’t answer to picked up dragonglass and protected the women and children in the crypts. That bastard you curse killed the Night King. And the Queen who sits on the Iron throne rode her dragons and took out more of the dead than all us brave men combined. All the while you hid in your holdfast like a coward.”

He stood up with his sword, “Don’t call me a coward!”

“Then kill me for the saying the truth. I have taken your bread and salt but cut me down like Walder Frey did with your son!” Jorah stood up, and held the sword, pressing it to his throat. “Go on. Kill me. Then tell your children who to blame when the sky falls on your head.”

It was stubborn pride and anger that made Glover petty. Not malice. There was still some honor, and that honor would not let him slaughter a guest. Sybelle had known that when she invited Jorah in, and Jorah had relied on it.

“Robett dear, that is enough. Come sit.” Sybelle made him lower his weapon and Jorah sat down too, knowing that he would not die today.

Sybelle asked in a small voice. “What did you mean, when the sky falls on us?”

Jorah didn’t make a habit of lying. At least not outright storytelling as he was doing now. Usually he lied through omission and silence. But omission and silence would not work here. So, he lied, but stuck to the truth closely enough that he would not be caught out.

“Lady Stark asked you to come, you refused. Then you caused trouble for half the Western shore by shirking your duties. She has no more patience for you. And no desire to call the banners and storm down your gates spilling more blood. She sent a raven down south. The armies are ready to march from King’s Landing, should they be needed. But you have seen Harrenhall. Your own will burn nicely, and all the Wolfswood with it.”

Glover stared at him in defeat. Sybelle was on the verge of tears. “Then why have you come?”

“Because, once I was married to your sister. House Mormont and House Glover have always been close, we have always been brothers though the paths we took led us far from each other. I had intended to travel to Bear Island for a visit, it was decided that I would stop by and see if we could not put this behind us. No one asks anything of you, just keep the oaths you made to Ned Stark when you took the Lordship, and I promise you, this will be forgotten and forgiven. Her grace is merciful, and Sansa Stark would have you live.”

“Why?”

“I told you-”

“Not that. Why do you serve the Mad King’s daughter? We fought in Robert’s rebellion together, he was the one who knighted you. And now you have switched allegiances and ask me to do the same.”

He had his motives, not all of them noble or rooted in reason. “She is not her father. The Mad King wronged us; he was not a good King. So, I rebelled. For years I gave my loyalty to Robert, then he ordered me to stand by as a pregnant woman was killed. I left him and protected Daenerys. In time, she showed herself to be far better than either of them. You rebelled when Joffrey wrongly imprisoned your Liege and killed him. All such undeserving Kings that hardly anyone mourned for when they died. Daenerys is different, she earned my loyalty. The North cannot rebuild itself, too many men have died, too many resources have been lost. A Stark governs you, and a Targaryen protects you. The North is as free and independent as it can be. This alliance has brought peace, and I know that prosperity is on its way." 

Jorah leaned forward, appealing to his old friend, "Your son died because he believed in the better world Robb Stark could build. The Young Wolf is gone, Daenerys and Sansa have endured. Westeros doesn't need a king, neither in the South nor in the North. It might not be the world you wanted, but it is the one we have, and it is far better than what we could have ever hoped for.”

Robett stood up and walked to the hearth standing there for a long time. Jorah had nothing more to add, and he was too tired to think of new arguments. Sybelle got up and whispered something in her husband's ear. Eventually he spoke to Jorah.

“You know where the ravens are. Send one to whomever you will, telling them whatever you want. Then go home and tell your cousin to send her ships. The salted and dried fish is supposed to be halfway to Winterfell by now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lord Glover has been taken care of, and now Jorah can finally return to Bear Island.  
> We might take a look at what's happening in King's Landing soon.


	4. The Green-eyed Beast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jorah has reached Bear Island, but what is happening in King's Landing while he has been gone?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A look at the events of King's Landing before we have a Bear Reunion.

_Snow is beyond the Wall, but Lady Sansa greeted me and gave some gloves that will serve well. She sends her regards. The North remembers. I have reached Bear Island safely._

“That is all?” Daenerys was shocked, surely over a fortnight of silence Ser Jorah would have something of note to tell her? But no, all he does is tell them about some gloves Sansa Stark gifted him.

“That is all.” Tyrion confirmed.

“Sansa Stark gifted him a pair of gloves. That is all he has to share?”

Varys broke in, “Actually he has shared a lot. ‘The North remembers’, is a phrase the Northerners use to reiterate that they remember their oaths of loyalty, the insults or assistance they received, or past glory or past crimes. Depending on the context, it can refer to almost anything to them, but is not something they use lightly. For Ser Jorah to convey Lady Stark’s regards then follow with ‘the North remembers’, we can safely assume that he is assuring us of the North’s continued loyalty to the Iron Throne.”

All the effort she put into winning over the North, and it’s Varys of all people who lectures her about its customs. “And the gloves? What are they code for? And snow beyond the Wall makes no sense, everyone knows its frozen beyond the Wall!”

Tyrion jumped in, “Probably what he says. He wasn’t wearing any gloves when he left, perhaps Lady Sansa gifted him a pair and he mentioned it as a symbol of the hospitality showed to him. And I believe Snow might be referring to Jon Snow.”

Daenerys muttered something under her breath and pinched the bridge of her nose. A very shocking display of frustration from someone who hid behind the strength of her crown every second of the day.

Tyrion knew exactly what ‘gloves’ referred to. The personal correspondence from Sansa had confirmed it already.

Mormont, despite being furious at Daenerys when he’d left, had stuck his neck out and stood toe to toe to the stubborn Lord Glover, in the man’s own home no less, and somehow, gotten him to back down.

Sansa had nothing but praise for him…

“Your Grace, you will be pleased to know that the decision of having Ser Jorah stay at Winterfell for a night was successful.”

Daenerys crossed her legs and rested her chin in the palm of her hand, with her elbow resting on the arm of the chair. The posture would have been casual, but somehow the petite woman managed to look far more threatening like this than she did on Drogon. “I don’t remember deciding that he would stay at Winterfell for the night.”

The green-eyed dragon was stirring. Time to poke it.

“That is because you did not. I discussed with him the paths he could take, there are only two by land, either way he would have to stop at Winterfell, unless he travelled in the night as well. By sea, it would mean sailing all the way from Kings Landing to around Dorne, or travelling to the Iron Islands or Westerlands and taking a ship from there, which would just take too long.”

Daenerys straightened in her chair, lacing her fingers and placing her hands on her knee. “So, he stayed over at Winterfell with Jon’s siblings.”

“Just Lady Stark. Bran and Arya Stark are visiting Greywater Watch and Storm’s End respectively.”

Daenerys enunciated each word slowly and carefully, “Ser Jorah spent the night alone with Sansa Stark. Is that correct?”

“Yes, your grace.”

Missandei and Grey Worm exchanged a look, looking worried at Tyrion’s behavior.

Daenerys raised her chin, “A pity. It would have been most unpleasant for both of them. He is not particularly social as it is, I can’t imagine him finding anything to talk about with Lady Stark.”

She had taken the bait, now to trap her. “On the contrary, in a personal correspondence I received from Lady Sansa a few days ago, she was nothing but praise for our dear Lord Commander. As fellow Northerners they seemed to have found common ground. It is, of course, in your benefit, Lady Sansa had on the word and advice of Lyanna Mormont, and her brothers Jon and Bran agreed to let Ser Jorah act as the North’s unofficial representative until someone else could be found. Now that she has spent some time alone with him, she is not in a hurry to send an official representative. I must say, I’m quite impressed. I hadn’t expected him to forge such a strong friendship with Lady Stark in so little time.” He scratched his chin and spoke to himself, but loud enough that Daenerys would hear, “I wonder what he did…”

He heard a sharp intake of breath from his Queen, and saw her nostrils flare out of the corner of his eye. Daenerys roughly pushed back her chair and stood. As everyone turned to her in surprise, she ignored everyone and adjusted her clothes before saying, “I have just remembered that I have an urgent and pressing matter to attend to. Please excuse me. The meeting shall be continued by the Hand of the Queen for today.”

With that she left, Grey Worm following like her shadow just as he had promised Mormont he would.

Once she was out of the room, Missandei turned to Tyrion with a frustrated look. “Was that necessary.”

“Maybe not. But it was enjoyable. Moving on to council matters…”

* * *

“My Queen, please stop.”

She ignored Grey Worm trailing behind her.

He had _dined_ with Sansa Stark? Spent an entire night in Winterfell with her _alone_?

_Why do I care?_ She shouldn’t care. She had no reason to be this angry. She wasn’t even sure who or what she was angry at, just that she was. She didn’t even have any valid reason to dislike Sansa Stark now that she had bent the knee. Not being accepted by Jon’s sister when she first arrived wasn’t any excuse, as a Queen she was above holding petty grudges. Even Sansa had suggested that they put all this behind when she sent the North’s armies to fight down south against Cersei Lannister. 

“Daenerys, wait! Where are you going?”

She stopped, whirling around to face him so suddenly that Grey Worm almost bumped into her. “To my chambers, Torgo Nudho.”

She turned to continue, but he grabbed her arm and stopped her. She was about to tell him off for his boldness but he did not give her that chance.

“You’re chambers are in the opposite direction. You are heading towards to the White Tower of the Queensguard.”

She felt her cheeks burn. With all the dignity she could muster, she freed her arm from his grip, and brushed past him to head towards her own chambers.

Grey Worm wordlessly followed.

_This is all Jorah’s fault._ But even as she thought it, she knew it was a lie.

As she closed the door of her chambers, ordering Grey Worm to remain outside, she knew she was angry at herself. She went to her desk and picked up a parchment and quill. Perhaps she ought to write to Ser Jorah, but she didn’t know what.

Maybe and acknowledgment of his letter? Or just to say that she was glad he had reached safely?

Somehow, doing wither felt wrong. Especially after the way they had parted. The entire episode had left a sour taste in her mouth. Like ashes.

He had left. After swearing that he would not, so many times, after everything they had been through, together and apart, he had left.

_He wouldn’t have left had you not made it impossible for him to stay,_ a cruel voice, her own, whispered harshly in her ear.

She had kept him away, but letting him come close….

No, he was already too close to her. So close, that any scratch on him was a cut to herself. The dawn after the long night had proven it. She had felt her own heart being ripped out, until Grey Worm found her and told her he was alive but barely.

Without intending to, without wanting to, without her permission, he had laid claim to a part of her. It was his and she could not take it back try as she might. It was part she could live without. Even now, it seemed as if something was missing from inside her chest. Something that if she lost forever, would kill her.

She heard his sad whisper; _do you truly think I would hurt you Khaleesi?_

He would never wish her harm, but just by leaving, even if for a short while, he had hurt her just as much as she had hurt him.

Now, how was she to get him back?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Tyrion, be careful with the green-eyed dragon or you may hear the word 'Dracarys!'


	5. The Prodigal Son returns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Explore the world, but when the day ends, where will you go, if not home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jorah finally makes it to Bear Island!

Jorah stepped out of the cabin downstairs and made his way to the front of the ship above deck, greeting members of the crew on his way.

Lyanna had sent a ship for him, though it had been anchored a bit away from the shore, a small boat had been waiting for him. Glover had seen him off, promising that he only wanted the best for the North and would give Daenerys and Sansa a chance to prove their worth, which was what Sansa had wanted. She had promised to handle the rest, and he trusted her to follow through.

The captain of the ship, Darin, was the same man who’d rowed him to the shore when he had made his escape. He had said he would go and take the Black, but his intention was track down the men he had sold, take the slaver’s head, bring them all back, and make up some story about being tricked and making plans to right it when Ned Stark declared his life void without a trial thus forcing him to escape. He intended to rely on the men who would owe him their lives and freedom to corroborate it.

It was the perfect plan to earn a Royal Pardon and return home. It drowned in the Narrow sea along with those two poachers by the hand of the slaver long before Ned Stark had even heard of his crime, leaving him in a seemingly permanent exile.

He leaned over the guardrail at the front of the ship, looking towards the general direction of the island. The wind was cool and salty. He closed his eyes and let it wash over him, feeling his body relax. He made himself unclench his jaw, he’d been grinding his teeth too much these days, and rolled his neck and shoulders to work out some of the tension he was carrying. 

He had left the island in the dead of the night against his will. Now he returned in broad daylight having fought for his right to come.

The first mate called out having sighted Bear Island, at the same time Jorah spotted it.

_There she stands…_

Alone in the icy bay, the largest and wildest isle of the Seven Kingdoms, always covered in snow but still green, made of sea beaten stone cliffs, with underground caves filled with iron, and trees taller and sturdier than most towers of holdfasts. With more animals than people, it was the most beautiful place in the world to his eyes.

They docked at the harbor, everyone got off, but Jorah stood frozen.

“Come down m’lord. We’ve waited long enough.”

“Is that you Clancey?”

“It’s Ser Clancey remember? You were the one who knighted this squire. Now come down, everyone’s waiting.”

And sure enough, everyone had stopped what they were doing and were staring at him. The young with interest, the old with something akin to fondness. Feeling very conscious of himself, he stepped onto the plank and finally stepped onto the Island.

The snow crunched under his boots, he took a deep breath almost losing himself in the smell of pine, spruce and old oak. He heard some shuffling and murmuring as everyone went back to work. The harbor had been renovated, while the structure was the same it was reinforced with stones in place of the ironwood used in his day. Just the way he had hoped to make it. The sun set early in these parts, but there was still time.

The Master at arms for House Mormont was there to greet him and had a horse ready to escort him to the top of the hill on which the Keep stood, but he declined saying that he would prefer to walk.

Ser Clancey chuckled, “Well, the island does look beautiful this time of the year. Come, you walk ahead, we’ll follow with your belongings.”

Impulsively, Jorah took off his sword belt and other weapons that he had and handed it over to be carried by the horse. He had feared that he could not picture the path towards the keep, but as they started walking, him a few paces ahead from everyone, he was overjoyed to discover that his feet remembered the way.

“Was there a rockslide at the cliffs?” He called out to Ser Clancey pointing to the twin peaks from which water flowed down into a lake of sorts before joining the Bay of Ice.

Ser Clancey squinted at it, thinking. “Aye,” he replied at length. “A few years back I think, sheet of stone just fell off. The Lady has us collect it and on the Maesters suggestion, use it for the harbor.”

Jorah smiled, keeping his eyes on the waterfall. When he finally turned his attention back to the upwards winding path he caught sight of the gates, and stumbled over his own feet for a step.

He was here. It was right there, the gates to Mormont Keep’s front yard. They had a carving on them, of a woman in a bearskin, battle axe in one hand, a feeding babe in the other. He remembered feeling as if he was carving his heart out with every step he took away from it all those years ago. The wind blew his hair, and his cloak fluttered behind him, and should anyone dare to ask, he would blame the moisture in his eyes on the cold breeze.

He ran a hand over the carving, then opened the gates. The courtyard was empty, but the door to the main hall was ajar.

He slowly pushed it open, hesitating despite himself. He almost felt that anytime now, one of his cousins, or even Maege herself would jump him and demand to know what had taken him so long. They never did appreciate whenever he remained at the mainland for too long.

Jorah could hear voices, discussing, almost arguing inside. They stopped once he crossed the threshold. He ignored everyone in the room and focused on the one who had not just given him permission to return, but the unquestionable invitation to do so. 

Lyanna was sitting in the Lord’s highbacked seat. She seemed uncertain on how to proceed; he couldn’t help but smile seeing her.

The old Maester smiled and gave him a bow, “Welcome Ser Mormont.” Then he ushered everyone outside, leaving them alone.

By now Lyanna had gotten out of the chair and limped around the table, he moved closer to her to avoid straining her leg.

“It is good to see you My Lady. I would have arrived sooner, but something came up on the way. Speaking of it, Lord Glover asks you to hurry and send your ships. He said that the deliveries were already behind schedule.”

She frowned, the fingers on one hand fiddling with the edge of the table, “We were just discussing that when you entered, and I don’t want to involve you in this-”

“I’m afraid that Lady Sansa was not aware of that decision, she told me everything, and asked that I stop and speak with Lord Glover on behalf of the Iron Throne on my way. The matter is dealt with.”

She ducked her head, scowling at the ground. “I didn’t ask you for it, nor did I need you to intervene.”

So young but still so stubborn, just like the rest of their family. “You didn’t have to, but I wish that you had.” He touched her cheek and made her look up, “I know you are capable. I did it because it was something I could do for you.” With a shrug he added, “And to keep the peace. Lord Glover disobeyed orders because he wanted to send a message to Lady Stark and her Grace.”

Lyanna huffed in annoyance. “He had to pick my ships to do it.”

Jorah chuckled, “Aye.”

They stood in silence for a moment as Jorah let his gaze explore the room, seeing that it was mostly the same since he’d left it, as if hardly any time had passed at all.

“In recent years, you are the only Mormont who survived going both beyond the Wall, and down South.”

He brushed a hand over her head without looking at her. She was still young enough for it, but he wouldn’t dare treat her so if there were others present. She had a formidable reputation, and he would be damned if he jeopardized it. He raised his arms, just a bit, enough to give her the choice but not enough for her to feel obligated to reciprocate. It didn’t take long for her to make her move, and while to others the hug might feel too tight, he wasn’t complaining and neither was she.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope that wasn't too mushy, or too little mushy.   
> Creating a balance is hard, I hope that it turned out readable.
> 
> And, I've hit a stump. I have a few ideas, but for the most part it's just the two Mormont cousins and their shenanigans.
> 
> So, if any of my lovely readers have any ideas or something specific they'd like to see, feel free to drop it in the comment section!


	6. No man is an Island

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No man can survive in this world without help. 
> 
> Jorah learns that he is not the only one who needs some peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jorah's first day back on Bear Island. He might not be only one who needs his family.

_She slapped him. For the first time in his entire life, the hands that showed no mercy to enemies, but were always gentle with him, slapped him._

_That more than the order for his head broke his heart. “I am so sorry.” He fell to his knees and wept at Meage’s feet. “Forgive me, Maege, I never meant… I’d take it all back if I could. I swear.”_

_“This is your last night on Bear Island. Make preparations to leave.”_

_He couldn’t meet her eyes. But he knew he deserved her ire. “Bury my body on the eastern cliffside, if you can. Have my head thrown into the Bay instead of on a spike. I have no right to make it, but that is my last request.”_

_“You will not die tomorrow.”_

_He finally raised his head. She gently bade him to stand, pulling him by his arm._

_“Ned Stark will kill me. We’ve never gotten along-”_

_“He cannot kill you if you are not here.”_

_Horror crept upon him as he realized what she was suggesting. “No, I can’t! I’ve already broken the law, don’t make me betray our words. I cannot run.”_

_“I would rather have you be far and alive than near and dead.”_

_“If I go, then the black is the only way. Father will kill me himself, even if he doesn’t, I will be as good as dead.”_

_“He will not kill you. Curse you, but not kill. Benjen comes down to Winterfell once a year at least, wait some time, and you can do the same. I will not see you die before me. Go now while there is time, I will turn a blind eye.”_

Load and repeated banging on the door woke Jorah up. He rubbed his eyes, and looked around, feeling confused about where he was.

“Oi! It’s morning, get out of bed you lazy old man!”

Jorah groaned, clearly Lyanna’s kindness did not extend to letting him sleep in.

“I’m up, quit yelling.” He wrenched open the door and stared down at her. “And I’m not that old.”

“You are compared to me.” With that she spun around and limped away leaving Jorah to mutter his indignations to himself.

Sometime later he joined her in the main hall to break their morning fast. Halfway through the meal she informed him that he would be joining her when she listened to supplicants.

“Maester Philip believes half of them might actually come to see you today, so you may as well be here.”

As much as he doubted anyone would care, and even though he had hoped the explore the woods today, he conceded.

By afternoon he was proven wrong. Several times over in fact. The most troubling one was that his old wet nurse, Willa, had come to visit. He was surprised that woman was still alive, more so that she remembered and recognized him. Her words also broke his heart a little.

“I see the golden cub is all grown up now. We used to call your father the Old Bear, but now you look just like he did when he first brought you down to the village. You’re not as broad, but you’ve got fine shoulders. Strong, like a proper Mormont! Good, good. Come visit soon, eh.”

All the while running her hands through his hair and over his arms, patting his down affectionally.

Jorah was never one for sentimentality, preferring gruff monosyllables to long winded rhymes. He was knight after all, not a bard. Nor was he much for physical affection, he was a Northern man, not some southern maid for God’s sake. But he would be damned to the worst hell had he not bent down to accommodate her reach and taken all the woman’s love with a smile and then held her close as she fawned over him.

Even Lyanna, who had spent all morning mercilessly mocking him after each supplicant left, said nothing when Willa finally left.

“Let us take a break for food.”

“As my Lady commands.”

Halfway through the meal, Lyanna spoke to him. “You needn’t refer to me by ‘My Lady’ all day long.”

“As it pleases my Lady.”

“Cousin…” the warning growl was enough to make him chuckle as he tore into a piece of bread.

He smiled, this house needed more laughter in its halls. “Alright, I’m done fooling around.”

“Finish your meal then come walk with me.”

Maester Philip interjected before Jorah could reply. “My Lady, there are a few people from the fisheries here to see you.”

“Tell Darin to deal with it. If needed, I will talk to them tomorrow.”

“And what of your leg, you must rest-”

Lyanna banged her fist on the table, “I have rested enough these past six months. I will be taking a walk with my cousin after we are done with our meal. Is that clear Maester?”

Her tone left no room for argument, yet, the Maester hesitated. Jorah spoke to reassure him. “I’ll make sure she doesn’t strain her leg.” Finally, he bowed and left the room.

Lyanna was not pleased by this and seemed to take it out on her cutlery. Jorah touched her arm and leaned in to whisper, “When I was young, to escape my lessons, there was a place I would go to. I could show you.”

Lyanna glanced at the door, “Does anyone know about it?”

“No one but me. I need to fetch my sword, meet me near the kitchen.”

Five minutes later, he led her to the service rooms at the backside of the keep and after checking to see no one was there, took her outside from a lesser used back entrance. From there, he hid behind some crates, pulling Lyanna with him when some servants passed by. Once they had left, the pair slinked along the tall wooden fence that surrounded the Keep. After some fumbling around, Jorah found the hinges of a gate built into the fence itself, practically hidden. The hinges were a bit rusted, but a strong strike from Braveheart’s pommel loosened them and allowed Jorah to open the gate, gesturing for Lyanna to go out. 

Though they were exactly behind Mormont Keep, no one ever came up here, except a few wandering bears or dears. the overgrowth was proof of it. 

He pushed aside some bushes, and looked at the trees, trying to remember where exactly the trail began. It took a few minutes but eventually he located a narrow and overgrown trail. He took Lyanna’s hand and they walked on it for ten minutes before it ended in what looked like an ordinary patch of the forest.

From there, Jorah gestured to one of the branches. It had a red cloth, slightly rotted with time, tied to it. “I tied it there to mark this place. You can’t see it unless you know where to look.”

Jorah started walking in the direction the branch was pointing in, bidding Lyanna to follow. He led her to one of the rock outcrops that jutted out of the hillside. “Tell me, what do you see?”

Lyanna raised an eyebrow. “A pile of rocks?”

“Close. Look from this angle.” Lyanna moved to where Jorah was standing.

“It’s a passageway under the ground!”

Jorah smiled and lowered himself into it. Lyanna was surprised to see that the rock had been roughly cut into steps.

He led her to the end of the tunnel, a few minutes later the passageway opened into a steep rock face. The opening was covered by tree roots and moss hanging down it. Jorah cleared some of it using Braveheart then sat down on the opposite end of the opening.

“You know how our island is, can you tell me where we are?”

Lyanna nodded, “Our Keep is built on the largest hill of the entire island, it lays on the western side and faces South, diagonally from the harbor. You can’t miss the harbor, it’s just stone and wood thrown into the natural cove which we call Bear’s paw. Between them we have the main village in which most of the island’s resident stay. Since we can’t see it from here, I’d say we’re at the northern side of the hill, possibly facing west. Because of we were facing east, we’d see the village, but all I see are the woods.”

“That’s correct. Had we been facing east you would have seen the eastern farms as well. I found this place after I fell into the hole while exploring. Later, when I became Lord, I was quite young then, I started to come here for some peace and quiet. Maege had dubbed it ‘The lord’s corner’. She and several others knew of it, but not where it was. Ruling can be stressful, regardless of whether you rule five hundred or fifty thousand. It helps, having your own hidden corner.”

“I needed this.”

“I know. I need something from you too.”

She tilted her head at him.

“I need to you to tell me why you wanted me here. And don’t say because we’re family. I already know that’s not it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I haven't replied to any of the comments, I promise you I did read them and have noted down all the wonderful suggestions! At this point this story is fast becoming a book of adventures between the two Mormonts. Big Bear and Little Bear!


End file.
